


Marry Me, Obviously

by surrenderdammit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Blackmail, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Sorta Friends to Probably Lovers, F/M, It's For a Case, Marriage of Convenience, Possible OOCness, Random & Short, Romance, Sherlock To The Rescue, Time Skips, UST, little to no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 19:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6389494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderdammit/pseuds/surrenderdammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, "surrenderdammit's self-indulgent Victorian!Sherlolly fic".</p>
<p>
  <i>What is the price of getting Sherlock Holmes to help a hostile morgue director with a secret to hide?</i>
</p>
<p>“The price, Doctor Hooper, is the truth,” Holmes declared after a few moments of silence. Gesturing for him to sit, Holmes settled down on his preferred armchair and reclined. “I cannot offer my help and discretion if I don’t know exactly what this secret is, lest I end up inadvertently aiding you in whatever sinister business you are hiding.”</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Hooper nodded. “I suspected as much, though I had hoped I could avoid it. Well, Mr. Holmes....My blackmailer is a man named Thomas Benton, and he wishes to...marry me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry Me, Obviously

**Author's Note:**

> A few warnings; English isn't my first language and this hasn't been beta read, so please excuse any typos/grammatical errors! Thanks! :D Also, I'm well aware of the plot holes in this :,D But the idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I didn't have the energy or inspiration to flesh this story out properly. Thus the time skips. 
> 
> Anyway, while this was totally and utterly inspired by the Christmas Special episode, nothing from that episode is really in the story, except for the obvious bit about Molly in drag. 
> 
> Also, I'm not 100% on the rating. I pegged it as T, but that might be a bit high? IDK, should I change it to GA? Let me know :)
> 
> That said, this was completely written for my own amusement. I'd be delighted if someone else liked it, but yeah. 
> 
> Thanks for your time :)

o-oOo-o

Hooper paced restlessly to and fro in the flat’s sitting room, contemplating with deep contempt the utter desperation which had led to this. For only the most dire of situations would ever drive Doctor M. Hooper to Sherlock bloody Holmes’ doorstep.

“Here’s your tea, Mr. Hooper,” the fluttery housekeeper and landlady of 221 Baker Street announced, having returned after showing Hooper to this room. 

“It’s  _ Doctor _ , Mrs. Hudson,” Hooper grumbled, in too foul a mood to let it slip. The amount of work, risk and years put into getting that title warranted some respect, honestly! Especially now, when it felt as if it might be taken away at any moment. Taking the cup of tea on the tray the old woman had just put down, Hooper hoped it was strong enough to calm some nerves. Ideally, it would contain whiskey, though the chances of that were small.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, Doctor Hooper!” Mrs. Hudson apologized, smiling kindly with a motherly air. She was not going to induce any guilt that way. Doctor M. Hooper was made of strong stuff than that, besides, there were more important things to worry about other than offending the housekeeper of one’s nemesis. “Mr. Holmes shouldn’t be long now, Doctor!”

Making an impatient gesture with the hand not cradling the fragile teacup, Hooper dismissed her and walked on over to the windows, hoping to catch sight of the infuriating Consulting Detective as he arrived. It wouldn’t hurt to be forewarned, as this was a confrontation which had the potential to end very badly. However, with the kind of options Hooper was left with, this was the lesser of evils, somehow. Humiliation under extortion, or face disgrace, prison or even death: the odds were not in Hooper’s favour.

“Here you come, sweeping down the street in your coat, looking like a complete fopdoodle,” Hooper hissed, spotting Holmes as he briskly moved towards his flat, a preoccupied look on his angular face. Draining the still hot tea, Hooper grimaced. Time to face the music.

“Ah, what a _ delightful _ surprise to come home to!,” Holmes exclaimed, his words dripping with sarcasm as he appeared in the doorway like an apparition out of Hooper’s nightmares. “To what do I owe this  _ lovely _ visit, Doctor Hooper?”

“Yes, I’m utterly  _ charmed _ to be here, Mr. Holmes,” Hooper drawled, setting down the empty teacup lest it became a weapon in the ever-going war between the Doctor and the Detective. “But surely, an observant man such as yourself can answer that question? Or are your ‘powers of deduction’ failing you as of late?”

Narrowing his eyes at the challenge, Holmes stopped in his approach, making a show of eyeing up his guest. His eyes would surely fall out of his head one of these days, considering how they flitted about, searching out information and letting that infuriatingly brilliant brain of his process it. A brain easily distracted by fierce animosity and the dim lighting and foul smells of a morgue. Who knows what will be revealed in the light of day?

“You’ve come here for my help, obviously,” Holmes began, speaking rapidly. “It must be quite dire indeed, or else you would never dream to come here, given your strong dislike of me and my person. You’ve been put under a lot of stress, evident from your weight loss and lack of sleep. It keeps you up at night, gives you dark circles under your eyes which you’ve attempted to cover up with make-up. Your pallid complexion and the slight twitching of your normally steady hands suggest...fear. You are scared, Doctor Hooper. But of what?” He paused, noting how Hooper had swallowed and straightened his shoulders as if bracing himself. “What could strike fear in the heart of the morgue director of St Bartholomew’s?” Hooper glared, clenching his fists. Fascinated, Holmes took a few steps closer, sweeping in for a closer look. Perspiration had dampened the brown hair swept to cover a forehead which wasn’t as large as Hooper seemed to think. His eyes, though, had always seemed large in a slightly feminine face. The Doctor’s slight build and softer features had driven him to overcompensate, as evident of that ridiculous mustache. Without it, though, Holmes had no doubt that the man would suffer for his appearance. Feminine men lived dangerous lives.

An impatient sigh brought him out of his musings, causing him to sneer at the source. Hooper glared back impatiently. Something about Hooper had always drawn him to distraction, like a needle in the corner of his eye, and it infuriated him at the best of times. Mentally chiding himself, Holmes drove right back into his mission: find out what in blazes hell Doctor Matthew Hooper was doing in his sitting room. 

“You’re career driven, as is evident from obtaining your position at such a young age. Your work is your life,” a notion he could find it in himself to respect, though he would never say it out loud, “and with no family or friends outside of it… Matthew Hooper, have you done something to endanger your work?” Positively gleeful at the strained expression on his reluctant guest’s face, Holmes went in for the proverbial kill, as it were. “Aha! You’re being blackmailed, obviously. How quaint and utterly  _ banal.  _ Tell me, my good Doctor, what _ have _ you gone and done?”

Fixing Holmes with a grim look, Hooper crossed his arms in a defensive gesture. “I’ve done nothing but my job, Mr. Holmes, and I’ve done it well. It’s slightly more complicated than that. My blackmailer knows a secret, and should it get out, I will lose everything. If I pay you, will you help rid me of my problem? Discreetly?” The Doctor’s nerves were beginning to show, Holmes noted, slightly discomfited with the normally prickly but intelligent and competent Doctor being so on edge. “You’ve been known to choose not to engage the police or other authorities when the situation have suited you. What is the price for doing this for me?”

He’s truly desperate, Holmes realized. A few years ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to take a moment of sadistic enjoyment out of the power he held over someone so vocal in their dislike of him. However, time and exposure to Watson (and Mary), Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson had changed him, and mostly for the better, if one were to ask anyone but Holmes (as he himself wouldn’t admit it). 

“The price, Doctor Hooper, is the truth,” Holmes declared after a few moments of silence. Gesturing for him to sit, Holmes settled down on his preferred armchair and reclined. “I cannot offer my help and discretion if I don’t know exactly what this secret is, lest I end up inadvertently aiding you in whatever sinister business you are hiding.”

Taking a deep breath, Hooper nodded. “I suspected as much, though I had hoped I could avoid it. Well, Mr. Holmes....My blackmailer is a man named Thomas Benton, and he wishes to...marry me.”

Hooper watched as Holmes processed this, his frown of confusion amusing for the few moments it lasted, before the Great Detective figured it out. The dawn of comprehension was like watching the clouds clear the sky and being blinded by the sun.

“ _ Oh,”  _ Holmes breathed, eyes wide as he leaned forward in his seat opposite Hooper, a manic grin spreading. “Of course! Hah!” He clasped his hands, jumping up from his seat and starting to pace. “There’s always something, isn’t there? How utterly stupid of me, to miss something so  _ obvious! _ Oh  _ Miss _ Hooper, you have been naughty, haven’t you?” His glee made her frown, and he caught the thunderous expression growing on her face.  _ Those eyes, that nose, those lips! That voice! How did I miss it? Of course, too distracted by other details. Oh she is good, isn’t she?  _ “Tell me, do you actually loathe me so, or was it the fear of me finally starting to observe you rather than merely seeing you which caused to you be so vehemently antagonizing? A good distraction technique, obviously.”

Heaving a sigh, Hooper shrugged. “I might have exaggerated, a bit. You’re brilliant, though aggravating. You do good work, I always respected that. But it’s easier to keep anyone from finding me out if I’m difficult to approach. Being testy and strictly professional helps with that, and engaging in arguments with you has certainly helped to build my reputation over the years. So, thank you for that, Mr. Holmes.”   

Smirking, Holmes sat down again, fully engaged in this new case now that he’s mentally upped it from a 6 to a 9. “So tell me, how did you do it?”

Caught up in his excited mood, Hooper found herself distracted from the stress and terror of her situation. “After my father died, I moved back to Scotland to live with my uncle. My cousin never returned from the war, assumed dead, but my uncle helped me assume his identity. And so, Matthew Hooper returned from the continent, having avoided home after the war but determined to become a doctor and make something out of himself. I studied, obtained my license, and moved to London. It’s easier than it might seem to fool people into believing I’m a man. Few would even consider the notion that a woman could study to become a doctor, and cut up cadavers, write research papers, live on her own and support herself. Well, until now…”

Nodding, Holmes leaned back in his seat. “Fascinating indeed, but yes, about your problem...tell me more about Mr. Thomas Benton and how he came to figure you out.”

Hooper took a deep breath, bracing herself. “Mr. Benton is studying to become a Doctor on the order of his benefactor, a Mr. Joseph Chapman. After spending most of his youth squandering his share of the inheritance left by the late Mr. Joseph Chapman Sr., Mr. Benton was given an ultimatum: attend school and obtain a license, or be cut off entirely from the Chapman fortune. As I’m sure you know, I’m occasionally called in to do a lecture or demonstration for students at St. Bartholomew’s. This is, unsurprisingly, how I met Mr. Benton for the first time. He is, actually, two years my senior, a fact which apparently irked him enough to seek me out in order to question several points I had made during the lecture.” 

Holmes snorted and rolled his eyes, to which Hooper smiled crookedly. He wondered what she looked like without the mustache and make-up. He had no doubts that her hair was cut short, and not a wig. Most likely, she wore a wig if she ever dressed as a woman, to lessen the chances of discovery when she’s a man. A wig is easy to tug off, after all, and she spent most of her time as a man, to his knowledge. 

“I, as politely as I could, corrected him and sent him on his way. But he was persistent. Soon, he started cornering me at the hospital, or even on the street as I made my way home or to work. A classic case of stalking, one which I was prepared to bring to the police’s notice, until...well.” She paused, swallowing nervously. Holmes narrowed his eyes, about to speak when she shook her head and continued. “I had finished up a late autopsy, a floater brought in just before my shift ended. It took longer than expected, and I sent my assistant home. Alone, I finished up without incident, but found that Mr. Benton had gained access to the morgue to force yet another confrontation. By this point, Mr. Holmes, I am frustrated and, yes, starting to fear what kind of man is following me around.”

Holmes tapped a finger to his chin, already seeing where her story is going, and no liking it.

“I was careless, and might have antagonized him more than I realized, because he escalated from verbal to physical confrontation. He grabbed me, and shook me, though I tried to get free. The struggle that ensued ending with Mr. Benton...figuring me out.” The red on her cheeks told him all he needed to know, and he allowed her to leave it at that. “He threatened to tell right away, of course, utterly gleeful at having found a weakness to exploit. I managed to appease him by offering him money, and managed to get away for the time being. However, it seems Mr. Benton fancies himself a schemer. He is, quite frankly, an awful student of medicine. The way he’s doing, he won’t get his license, and he knows it. I have little money to my name compared to the Chapman family, and ideally, he wants to remain in their favour to leech off of their fortune. It would be the better option financially in the long term, compared to blackmailing me. So he approached me again, with a new demand. I resign and Matthew Hooper disappears. His cousin Molly Hooper returns from Scotland to marry Mr. Thomas Benton. Mr. Benton will get his license through my help, and I will continue to assist him as his wife, to make sure he has material to produce in order to make a name for himself. Quite frankly, Mr. Holmes, I’d rather die, but would like to avoid doing so at the ruination of my name. Should he go to the authorities with this, I risk prison or a death sentence. I’ll dispose of myself before marrying that cad, however. Now, will you help me?”

Clasping his hands together, Holmes grinned at her. “Yes, Doctor Molly Hooper, I will assist you in this matter.” He watched as the woman’s shoulders slumped in relief, feeling angry and disgusted by the man who forced her to this. He cannot regret finally figuring her out, however, since that sensation of a needle poking his eye has disappeared with the newfound knowledge of Hooper’s true identity. She’s a fascinating creature now that they’re no longer at each other’s throats, and he observes rather than just sees.

“There are a few ways we can deal with this,” he began, crossing his legs. “I’m sure he is hiding a treasure trove of illegal, immoral and scandalous secrets with that past of his, and his venture into blackmailing. I’ll take my findings and present them to Mr. Chapman and have Mr. Benton dismissed. This leaves him free to extract revenge, however. Answering his blackmail with more blackmail isn’t a fail safe either, not the way that that type of man is wired. I could, perhaps, have my brother dispose of him if I can find any dealings he has done which might have endangered the Crown and country. I doubt this very much, as he seems a rather simple and petty minded scoundrel. Not exactly a spy from the Continent.”

Swallowing, Hooper looked at him nervously. “What do you suggest then, Mr. Holmes? Short of murder, how am I to rid myself of this problem?”

Holmes snorted. “Although I do not doubt your ability to commit a murder and actually get away with it, I don’t think we need to go to such extremes.”     

Smiling, Hooper shrugged. “Go on then, genius. What do you suggest?”

“Why, Miss Hooper,” Holmes grinned. “We’re getting married, of course!”

oOo

o

“Explain to me again why this is necessary,” Molly demanded, gritting her teeth where she sat in their cabin on the boat to France. Holmes was lounging on the bottom bunk, praying hands under his chin and eyes closed.

“Doctor Matthew Hooper needs to disappear, Miss Hooper,” he drawled, sounding bored. “A job offer in France, where he will meet and fall in love with some woman before retiring to the countryside. My brother has set it all up quite nicely. Should the authorities every attempt to trace him, they won’t find him, nor will they have any proof that the trail left for them is false.” Opening one eye to look over at her, Holmes smirked. “With Mr. Benton temporarily indisposed by my brother’s people, we’ll have enough time to set it all up. Once we have it all established, no one will credit any accusation from him, not with his past coming to light and the solid alibi we’re building for you. Of course, first you need to be seen entering this country. We’ll solve some cases, get your name associated with the police here, however briefly.” Closing his eye again, Holmes sighed. “Once I’ve sneaked you out of the country back to England, you’ll have to go back to Scotland for a while, I’m afraid. I’ll arrange for a case to take me there and bring you back with me. I’d marry you in Scotland, but Watson would punch me and Mummy would likely keel over in acute disappointment. Mycroft would never leave me alone then.”

Molly hid her face in her palms for a moment, before dragging her fingers through her messy hair. She would have to grow her hair out now, and for once felt blessed with the speed it grew. Before, it had been annoying to keep up with the haircuts, but now...well, a lot of things were different now.

“It still doesn’t explain this daft idea you have of marrying me. Until a few weeks ago, you didn’t even know I was a woman! You didn’t even  _ like me,  _ Mr. Holmes. Do you even know what a marriage is supposed to entail?”

Holmes snorted and looked over to where she sat, this time with both eyes open. They were a very pretty colour, but every so sharp and intimidating, though she no longer had to fear his discovery of her secret. Though, perhaps, there were other things to fear now. Like the way he had always made her heart flutter, her pulse jump. He was an attractive, intelligent and brilliant man, however arrogant and socially inept as he may be. Molly wasn’t exactly a pearl herself though, a woman cutting up cadavers clad in trousers and a mustache. 

“You have no living male relatives left, Miss Hooper, and no one to vouch for you and support you through an education at  London School of Medicine for Women. Society is tedious, but it would be quite harmful for your good name should I be your benefactor without being in some way related to you. Thus, marriage. I have every intention of continuing to work with you, Miss Hooper, and am eager to get your title back. You are the most competent doctor, together with Watson, who suits my needs in all of London. Really, “ he huffed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss. It’s not like you ever planned to marry, so might as well be for a good cause. I’m sure we’ll get along well without your deliberate hostility, and having someone capable around to assist in my experiments will be exciting! Women who doesn’t blanch at human body parts, mould and chemicals are a rare breed in these uneducated times. We might be moving forward with people such as Doctor Garrett Anderson and Doctor Jex-Blake, but I would say you are quite unique, Miss Molly Hooper.”

Feeling utterly flustered and charmed, Molly fought a blush, scowling when it made the man flash her a boyish grin. She sternly reminded herself that it would be a marriage of convenience. He’d stated as much, explaining his desire to keep her around as a tool for his work. If it meant she could continue as a Doctor, never mind the recognition she’ll lose by the disappearance of Matthew, then she could probably live with it. It was better than the alternatives she’d been given, anyway. At least this way, she’ll claim a title under her own name and identity. She’ll help Holmes with his work, but he won’t take credit for her part or force her to publish papers under his name. He’s also not a blackmailing scoundrel with a mean glint in his eye, deliberately seeking out ways to ruin her life completely.

“If this works, I’ll be properly impressed,” she sighed. Holmes scoffed at her continued doubts, but refrained from telling her yet again how pointless it was to think his plan would fail. Ever since Moriarty, he’d been more aware of the fact that he isn’t infallible, but he had moments when his overconfidence might not always be warranted. Molly personally thought this was one such moment, but chose not to tell him so once again, lest they start a circular argument which had powered them through the whole train ride from London to the harbour.

“I’ll be even more impressed if you can actually go through with the wedding night,” she mused absently, hiding a smirk by looking away as she heard him spluttering in stunned response. A quick glance confirmed his flummoxed state; cheeks and ears delightfully pink, eyes wide and shocked. Innocently, she inspected her nails as she continued. “I wonder how many children we’ll have. One should be enough, maybe two. What do you think?”

Meeting his incredulous stare, Molly fought a grin. Her lips twitched, however, and Holmes’ eyes narrowed. She hiccuped a giggle, the sound escaping her, and the admonishing glare he sent her way only served to set her off. After so many weeks of stress and terror, it felt good to finally break down into genuine laughter. 

“The look on your face! Oh, Mr. Holmes! Hah!”

Scowling, Holmes rolled until he presented her with his back, clearly pouting. Molly merely giggled, getting up and walking over to climb up to the top bunk for a few moments of rest. The trip wasn’t that long, but she was tired and according to Holmes, they had a long couple of days ahead of them. Might as well rest while she had the chance.  

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” she said softly, after a few moments of silence. “Truly, thank you for all this.”

“Thank me again after a week of marriage, Molly Hooper,” he replied, teasing. She grinned, hiding her face in her pillow. The fluttering of her stomach was worrying, but something she chose not to deal with right now.

“I’ll be sure to, Sherlock Holmes,” she giggled, enjoying his amused snort from beneath her bunk. If nothing else, it would most likely  _ not _ be boring, she assured herself. The terror of what lay in the future was subdued, for now. Hope, something she hadn’t dared to indulge in for too long, blossomed. She might come out of this alive, after all.

oOo

o-oOo-o

oOo

“You,” Watson stated, pointing a finger in Holmes’ face. “Are getting married? What in the blooming Hell, Holmes!”

Impatiently batting his friend’s hand away lest he might get his eye poked out, Holmes breathed out a sigh in impatience. “Yes, Watson, do keep up. Miss Molly Hooper is soon to be Mrs. Sherlock Holmes. ‘Felicitations, Homes!’, I think the saying goes, when your friend has announced his engagement.”

“I could give you a repeat of the news of my engagement if you wish, Holmes,” Watson growled, a clear warning. Holmes winced at the memory. At least Molly wasn’t here at the moment, to take Mary’s place in the suggested scenario. That would be a bit Not Good, since he had found himself desiring Miss Hooper’s good opinion ever since they embarked on her case together. Fascination had grown alarmingly quickly into genuine affection, a concept still strange and intimidating, but less appalling than it used to be. It helped that years of an antagonising relationship between Doctor Matthew Hooper and himself had given Molly Hooper a backbone of steel, yet the woman he was getting to know was warm where her male persona had been cold and kind where he had been abrasive. She was soft in places unexpected, not just physically, though he had come to appreciate the way she wore a dress. He did miss the trousers, however. She had lovely legs.

Distracted once again by Hooper, Holmes thought ruefully as he was startled back to reality by his friend poking him in the chest.

“Look here, Holmes, is this for a case?” By the look on Watson’s face, something must’ve shown on his own. “Good God, man, you can’t be serious! You can’t just marry a poor girl for a case! Remember Miss Janine?” A look of realization crossed of the Doctor’s face before he groaned. “Oh God, you said Hooper, didn’t you? You’re marrying ‘Matthew’ Hooper?! I  _ knew _ there was something weird with her disappearing just like that! Was she found out?”

Blinking, Holmes stared at his friend. “How…? You  _ knew?” _

Watson rolled his eyes. “That Doctor Hooper wasn’t a man? Yes. It wasn’t that hard to figure out, though you were too busy getting riled up to notice, I assume. Now, for God’s sake, tell me what this is all about. Is it really necessary to  _ marry _ the girl?”

“Woman, Watson, she’s a  _ woman _ , not a girl,” Holmes corrected absently, trying to come to terms with his friend already knowing. Putting it off for now, he set about explaining the genius of his plan. To his bewilderment, it was met with the same skepticism Molly had first displayed. With her steadily increasing attraction to him, and the significant changes in their relationship, however, he was convinced he’d managed to make her see the brilliance of his solution.  

“Holmes, I can think of several other ways to deal with the situation. Why,  _ truly _ , are you  _ marrying _ her?”

Annoying, Holmes huffed and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I just told you, Watson, do keep up! Now, will you attend the wedding or not?”

Watson shook his head in exasperation. “Ask yourself why you’re actually doing this, Holmes, and answer yourself  _ truthfully _ . You don’t need to tell me yet, but get it sorted yourself first. Preferably  _ before  _ the wedding, which of course I’ll come to, you tit.” Grinning at his friend’s affronted expression, Watson slapped him on his shoulder. “Felicitations, Holmes! When do I get to meet her, and when’s the wedding?”

“Thank you, Watson,” Holmes sniffed, choosing to ignore his command for now. Introspection worked much better alone, with his pipe and violin. “You’ll meet her tomorrow, and the wedding is the day after. I suggest you go home and tell your wife, she’s sure to want time to pick out a dress and make arrangements for the baby. Ta!”

Being ushered towards the exit, Watson spluttered in protest. “What? The day after tomorrow?! Are you completely insane?!”

“Say hello to Mary and Isabella for me! Bye!” With that, he promptly shut the door in the good Doctor’s face. 

Clapping his hands and rubbing them together, Holmes smirked smugly. “Well, that went well! Now to finish preparing for your welcoming home, Miss Molly Hooper. Where did I put that box? MRS. HUDSON!!!”

oOo

“She’s lovely,” Lestrade commented, a genuine smile on his face. “Looks a lot like her cousin, but she’s a lot nicer to you, eh? What’s he got to say about this, by the way?”

Grimacing at the obliviousness of others, Holmes shrugged. “Given the fact that he failed to return from France for the occasion, I’d say he either doesn’t approve or couldn’t give a toss. Take your pick,” he drawled, before eyeing the man next to him. “And yes, she’s lovely, and not interested in adultery. I suggest Miss Donovan, as she’s been happily warming Anderson’s bed sporadically over the years.”

Lestrade glared, but simply took a sip of his champagne. Message received; stay away from Mrs. Sherlock Holmes and her pretty big eyes. 

“Oh Sherlock, she’s absolutely charming!,” an older woman gushed, having ambushed the Detective. Holmes grimaced, sending a glare Mycroft’s way to convey his displeasure at his brother’s unwillingness to keep their parent preoccupied for the evening.

“Yes, thank you Mummy, I know,” Holmes sighed, patting her gently on her back as she embraced him. “Please don’t cry, you’ll ruin my suit. Molly rather likes it.”

Chuckling, his mother stepped away and stood grinning up at him. “Oh my darling boy, I’m so happy for you! To think you’d be swept away like that, by such a lovely young woman!”

Indeed, Holmes thought, looking for his new wife in the small crowd that had gathered for the occasion. Quite unexpected. But the months she had been away in Scotland had showed him just how easily he had been charmed by her in the weeks they had spent together in France. This marriage, he suspected, would not remain strictly a convenience. To be perfectly honest, which he had silently promised Watson he would be, this marriage had not been the only way for him to save Molly Hooper. Finding something lovely only to have it threatened to be taken away seemed to have evoked something of an impulsive reaction; marriage had seemed logical at the time. Now, however…

“Detective Inspector, Mrs. Holmes, hello,” his wife greeted the people crowding him, a smile on her face (which looked lovely without the mustache. He shuddered to remember the impulsive first kiss they’d shared after a case in France, and the alien feeling of a fake mustache tickling him. He’d completely forgotten she was still in her male disguise, much to his mortification and her endless amusement). “Might I steal my husband for a bit? It feels like I haven’t seen him all day!”

Giggling, his mother shooed them off while Lestrade simply took a larger sip of his drink, equally horrified as fascinated by the reality of Holmes being a married man.

“God, this is tedious! Why didn’t we elope?” Holmes grumbled, steering his wife to a secluded corner where they could signal their desire for some semblance of privacy. Grunting from having a sharp elbow shoved into his stomach, Holmes glared down at the amused face of Molly.

“You insisted it was necessary to fully separate me and ‘Matthew’ in people’s minds. At least those who doesn’t already know about it,” she replied, grinning at his pout. Casting a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Ah, you tease me, Molly,” he groaned, snaking a hand around her waist to rest at the small of her back. “Society is moronic, why can’t I be allowed to kiss my wife whenever and wherever I want to? Public decency, pah!”

Grinning, Molly placed a hand on his chest, fiddling with a button on his shirt. “You can be as indecent as you like tonight, Sherlock, I promise.”

“Mm, yes, I distinctly remember you expressing a desire to be impressed. I shall have to do my best,” he darted in for another kiss, keeping it light and delighting in the pink hue on Molly’s cheeks.

“And in six days, I might just express my thanks,” she returned cheekily, with a mischievous smile. Laughing, Holmes pulled her close and indulged in a moment of her warmth, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. Loose, he knew it to go beyond her shoulders, Perfect to dig his fingers in, and pull. Mm, yes…

The laughter of several of his friends startled him and Molly apart, his wife blushing but smiling sheepishly while he glared at the spectators. Distracted again by Molly, he mused ruefully. 

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, enjoying the way it made her shiver. “How soon do you think we can sneak away without anyone noticing? Better yet, why not just leave, because who  _ cares _ if they notice or not?” 

“Sherlock!,” she hissed, exasperated. 

“Yes, yes,  _ ‘be nice’.  _ Urgh.” 

The “night” part of the wedding couldn’t come fast enough.

  
o-oOo-o

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I had the energy to write more haha. But this is it for now. Thanks for reading and making it this far! <3


End file.
